


Spice Up Your Life

by Flenser



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag, Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Exchange 2017, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 12:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10307138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/pseuds/Flenser
Summary: After years of dating, Sugawara and Ushijima finally move in together, but everything might not be as perfect as it seems.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluemooning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemooning/gifts).



> Happy Haikyuu Rare Pair Exchange, [orcmeat](https://orcmeat.tumblr.com)! May this Ushisuga crossdressing fic bring you great joy.

Koushi cracks open the final box to discover it’s only half full and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s nothing but odds and ends, things he recognizes as Wakatoshi’s, forgotten at Koushi’s apartment over the last couple of years. A tie, several books, even underwear: all evidence of lives comfortably entwined. He probably finds it a bit more significant than it really is, but after what feels like a lifetime of dating, he enjoys the idea that he’s the one to bring Wakatoshi’s belongings home, to the apartment they’ve finally been sharing for just over a week now. He goes about putting everything where it belongs, humming to himself and deciding what he should make for dinner, though he ruefully wonders if he should cook for one or for two. He had thought moving in together would mean they would see more of each other, but a high-profile case has been keeping Wakatoshi at the office until very late. He knows it’s important, and it sounds like the end is in sight, so he tries not to dwell on it too much. He decides on yakisoba (whatever they don’t eat tonight Wakatoshi can take with him to work tomorrow) and pulls open the top drawer of Wakatoshi’s dresser to put away the underwear.

Koushi’s hand lands on something silky and, curious, he plucks it from the drawer. He laughs when he discovers it’s a tacky piece of lingerie: lacy, sheer, painfully synthetic, and the ugliest shade of pink he’s probably ever seen. It’s the kind of thing marketed toward forgetful husbands around Valentine’s Day, and if Wakatoshi thinks he’s going to wear this for him he might as well take it right back and pick up something a little more Koushi’s style. Koushi’s stomach flutters as he thinks about maybe shopping for it together, a sexy little preamble to a sexy evening, and he grins as he wonders when Wakatoshi was going to ask him for this. It’s something Koushi’s done for boyfriends in the past, and he doesn’t recall Wakatoshi ever mentioning it before, but he’s so _down_ for it, especially after such a long dry spell. He turns it over in his hands, searching for the tags and hoping Wakatoshi didn’t spend too much, only - 

There are no tags.

Koushi riffles through the drawer but comes up empty. Frowning, he holds the garment up by the straps and, upon further inspection, it doesn’t look very new. He fingers a bit of the black lace where the stitching has come undone and nearly drops the damn thing in horror when he spies a sizable hole near the hem. His heart begins to hammer in his chest. Why would Wakatoshi have this ratty old thing? Was it left over from an old girlfriend? Koushi frantically scans the rest of the room, noting the minimalist style, the lack of clutter and spartan belongings placed very deliberately throughout, and _knows_ there’s no way it was just shoved in the drawer and forgotten. It’s there _for a reason_. Whose is it? Why did he keep it? _What did it mean?_

Two and a half years ago, back when they first started dating, Koushi never thought much about Wakatoshi’s romantic history. Flush with the heady feelings of a man like Wakatoshi wanting him, a man not only attractive but mature and refreshingly _earnest_ , Koushi dismissed the fact that he was Wakatoshi’s first foray into homosexuality after a handful of relationships with women. Now that he’s forced to acknowledge it, however, he begins to doubt himself and his place in Wakatoshi’s heart.

Koushi springs to his feet and begins to pace around the room. Which girlfriend was it, and why her? Where does Koushi not measure up? Is Wakatoshi bored? It took them nearly six months, which Koushi thought was endearingly old-fashioned, but once they finally had sex it was like the floodgates opened and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They haven’t been able to connect like that in a while, though, and Koushi assumed it was because Wakatoshi was too busy and tired from long hours at the law office, working hard to advance his career, but now he wonders if it’s something more sinister, that spending so much time at work was some kind of _escape_ , and - 

Koushi’s catastrophizing, he knows he is, but he can’t help himself, so he does the one thing he knows he _can_ do and picks up his phone.

“Hey, Sug. What’s up?”

“Do you think he misses women?” Koushi blurts.

“What?” Daichi asks. “Who? Ushijima?”

Koushi takes a deep breath and steels himself for the bomb he’s about to drop. “I found...lingerie.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a tacky hot pink nightie in Toshi’s underwear drawer.”

“So?”

“It’s not mine!” Koushi exclaims.

“Are you sure?” Daichi sounds genuinely confused and if it wasn’t for Koushi’s heart-pounding fear that his relationship was potentially on the verge of collapse he would probably find the humor in it and laugh.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hisses instead.

“Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s _polyester_ , Daichi, and it’s not even new! There’s a hole!”

Daichi is silent for a moment while he apparently mulls this over, then, “If he’s stepping out on you, I’ll kill him,” he growls.

“No,” Koushi sighs, somewhat comforted by his friend’s care. “He wouldn’t do that. He hates cheaters.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just...you know he’s only been with women before me, right? And I never really thought about it very much because plenty of men have their gay awakening later in life, but it’s been _weeks_ since we last had sex and I thought he was just too tired because he’s working so hard on this case, and I don’t have boobs and I’m not soft and pretty like they are, and…” Koushi trails off as his throat tightens around crux of the matter, the one thing he fears most. “What if I’m not enough anymore?” he finishes in a small voice.

“ _You are_.”

“Daichi -”

“No, you listen to me,” Daichi interrupts, and Koushi snaps his mouth shut at the intensity of Daichi’s voice. “You are _enough_. You’re kind, and talented, and smart, and absolutely fucking _gorgeous_ , and if Ushijima is still hanging on to an old girlfriend’s underwear because he’s somehow unsatisfied with all that, then he’s the stupidest man alive.”

Koushi closes his eyes against the sudden prick of tears and tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. He nods, more to reassure himself since he knows Daichi can’t see it, and releases a slow, shaky breath.

“Talk to him, Suga,” Daichi continues, soft. “Remind him you’re enough.”

“I -” Koushi croaks, then clears his throat. “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll talk to him?”

“I will.”

“Good. Tell me how it goes later, yeah?”

“Yeah. I...thanks, Dai.”

“Any time.”

Koushi ends the call and plops down on the bed - _their_ bed, his and Wakatoshi’s, the one they bought _together_ when they decided to integrate their lives - and feels like he’s gained a bit of clarity. Daichi’s always been good at that, good at pulling Koushi out when he crawls too far inside of his own head, and it’s not the first time he’s been immensely grateful for his friend. He’ll have to find a way to properly thank him later, but for now he needs to focus on the task at hand. He stands and snatches the lingerie from where he dropped it on the floor, shoves it back into the drawer and slams it shut without looking. His eyes roam around the room as he wracks his brain, wondering how he should go about this, when he spies his old drag bag in the corner. He hasn’t gotten around to putting it in the closet with the rest of the vestiges of his old life, and idly wonders if he should even bother if they’re just going to break up and move out. He pauses, considering, then suddenly makes a decision that’s somehow as depressing as it is uplifting.

If a woman is what Wakatoshi wants, then a woman is what Wakatoshi will get.

  
  
  
  
Koushi’s in the middle of checking his reflection for the umpteenth time in the microwave oven door when he hears the sound of Wakatoshi entering the apartment. He’s earlier than expected, considering how late he’s been these past weeks, and Koushi’s relieved that his anxiety has worked in his favor for once. He’s been ready for at least an hour and fretting ever since. He leans as casually as he can against the kitchen counter, and before he loses his nerve entirely, calls, “In here!” 

A moment later Wakatoshi ambles in and he freezes immediately upon seeing Koushi. 

Koushi’s stomach does a nervous flip. The thing is, Koushi knows he looks good, with his perfectly coiffed hair and impeccable makeup and figure-hugging navy and white polka dot dress. His legs are shapely and miles long even without the red heels, and his skin is polished and glowing. He hasn’t looked this good since he gave up his side gig in order to teach high school calculus, but the longer Wakatoshi just stands there and stares at him the more he thinks it might be too little, too late. 

“Say something,” Koushi murmurs. 

“How did you find out?” Wakatoshi asks him. 

Koushi’s heart stops. How did he find out what? It’s then he notices Wakatoshi’s appearance, his untucked shirt and hunched shoulders. He looks positively _hangdog_ , and it occurs to Koushi that he may have had this wrong all along, that maybe that stupid, ugly, piece of shit nightie is a more recent development than he thought. All at once he flashes hot and angry, because wanting things and being afraid to say so is something he can understand, but infidelity is something he absolutely _cannot_. 

“Who is she?” he demands. 

Wakatoshi scrunches his heavy brow - his thinking face - but Koushi doesn’t give him time to come up with any excuses or lies. He marches to the bedroom and rips the nightie from the dresser, then marches back to a clearly startled Wakatoshi and shoves it into his chest. 

“Who’s the...the _slut_?” Koushi chokes out, and dammit, he doesn’t want to cry. His anger response is always tears, and he hates how they make him seem weak and irrational. He’s angry, god damn it, and has every right to be. 

Wakatoshi looks down at the bundle of lace in Koushi’s fist and his brows knit even further. He looks concerned, almost hurt, but he’s not allowed to be, because Koushi isn’t the one who cheated and left the $19.98 WalMart fucking _rollback_ in his underwear drawer. 

“You,” Wakatoshi says then, and Koushi rears back as if slapped. 

“What?” 

Wakatoshi looks up at him. There’s a burning intensity in his eyes that Koushi hasn’t seen since...well, since he started spending most evenings grading papers alone while Wakatoshi fucked god knows who under the guise of _pursuing his professional goals_. 

“You are the slut,” Wakatoshi tells him, and before Koushi can even begin to be offended, he reaches up to where Koushi’s hand still presses the lingerie into his chest and covers it gently with his own. “Do you remember the night we met?” 

Koushi glares at their joined hands, confused. “Of course I do. What does this have to do with - oh, my god,” Koushi breathes, eyes wide. “The Spice Girls number. Someone dumped a beer in my lap and I had to... _is this it_?” he asks, incredulous. When Wakatoshi nods, Koushi looks up at him in astonishment. He remembers everything now: the handsy frat boy tipping his beer all over Koushi’s dress, and his emergency run to the nearby Target for a cheap replacement. 

_Wakatoshi’s adorably red face when Koushi randomly hung all over him during a group performance while wearing a barely there negligee._

“But I threw it out in the restroom. You kept it?” 

“It is a memento of a very important moment in my life,” Wakatoshi explains with that oh so wonderful sincerity of his, and that’s it. That’s all it takes for Koushi’s heart to empty of anger and refill with so much love that it threatens to spill over. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels a soft handkerchief pressed against his cheek and hears Wakatoshi softly say, “Please don’t cry. You will ruin your makeup.” 

Koushi barks a relieved, watery laugh and takes the handkerchief to dab at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I should never have...I don’t deserve...god, I’m such an idiot.” 

“I don't think you are an idiot,” Wakatoshi says. “I think you came to an understandable conclusion, given the circumstances.” 

“So what was that back there, then?” Koushi asks with a playful swat to his boyfriend’s chest. “With the ‘how did you find out’ thing?” 

Wakatoshi’s face falls and suddenly everything clicks. 

“You lost the case,” Koushi states. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” He reaches out to gather Wakatoshi into his arms. The man practically melts into him, resting his chin on Koushi’s shoulder and his heavy arms around his waist. The heat and strength of the body against him feels so good after so long, and Koushi wonders how he could have ever doubted this. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks, and really, really means it. He’d do anything for this man. 

Wakatoshi pulls back, and there’s that burning in his eyes again as he rakes them over Koushi’s body, then pauses on the thing that caused so much trouble still clutched in Koushi’s hand. 

A sly smile spreads across Koushi’s face as he drops the nightie to the floor and hops up onto the counter, spreading his legs and lightly stroking his fingers along his exposed collarbone. Wakatoshi’s eyes follow the movement, pupils blown and so, so hungry. Yes, Koushi would do anything for this man...except maybe for _that_. “No can do, baby,” he purrs, sliding the cap sleeve of his dress off his shoulder and revealing the lacy navy blue strap hidden beneath. “I have _much_ better taste now.” 

Wakatoshi growls and hauls Koushi off the counter, and as he's dragged to the bedroom, giggling and breathless, Koushi knows they’re going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> FUN FACT: Suga and Ushijima met in grad school at a local gay bar during a charity drag ball.
> 
> FUN FACT: Suga's drag name is Sugar Babcock (COCK! Get it? Whatever, I'm like, five).
> 
> FUN FACT: Suga's preferred drag style is fishy pinup realness, hunty.


End file.
